


Awake Into Insanity

by sylphofMelody



Category: Homestuck
Genre: AU, Blood, Character Death, Depression, Insanity, Mild Gore, Murder, Sadstuck(?), Suicidal Thoughts, Will add more tags as they come along
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-01-16
Updated: 2013-01-30
Packaged: 2017-11-25 16:46:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,739
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/641011
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sylphofMelody/pseuds/sylphofMelody
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You've been diagnosed with Insomnia, according to Rose. You can't argue. You've had your fair share of sleeping problems in the past, but this was pushing it. You can't seem to do things correctly anymore, your mind has turned to mush and thoughts take awhile to process.<br/>Your name is John Egbert and you have no idea what to do with your life after the Game ended.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! This is my first fic, hope you guys like it and thank you for at least putting forth some interest! Let me know how you like it!

          You awake to the familiar sense of being alone. Your room is dark, yet a tint of blue shimmers through your window and coats the room in the gentle atmosphere of dawn. Glancing over at your alarm clock, you see the time is 5:23 AM, you have only gotten three hours of sleep. Again. Rolling over in your bed, you try and get some more sleep. No luck. You end up lying down for another thirty minutes before swinging your legs over the side of your bed and rubbing the grogginess from your eyes.  
           It's winter vacation and from the very start, things have been heading downhill. And fast. Your mother left to live with her sister in Wyoming, leaving a note saying that she did not want to be a burden anymore. Although, everyone, including herself, knew that was just an excuse to leave /her/ burden behind. Dad hasn't talked about it much, only every now and then to convince you that it wasn't your fault. You already know that much. Most of the time you eat dinner in uncomfortable silence and try not to notice how tense he looks all the time. On top of that, you've been diagnosed with Insomnia, according to Rose. You can't argue. You've had your fair share of sleeping problems in the past, but this was pushing it. You can't seem to do things correctly anymore, your mind has turned to mush and thoughts take awhile to process.  
           You stand up and stretch, your body aches from lack of sleep. You grab your glasses and head downstairs. Your father isn't up yet but you know he will be soon, so you can't go anywhere. On earlier wake up mornings you have been sneaking out to go for long walks around town. There isn't any crime around and it helps clear you mind, so why not? It's not like you are really doing anything /bad/. Although, if you had been caught, your father would probably give you an hour long talk about how dangerous it is and how you could be taken off the streets and no one would've seen a thing. You would simply apologize and promise not to do it again. That usually gets you off the hook for most things.  
           You turn on the T.V to whatever channel it had been left on and watch the muted pictures go by, allowing your mind to wander. It has been almost a year since the game has ended and to put into simple words; it has been draining. At first, it all seemed so unreal and scary, but you had gotten used to it and it soon became a way to make you feel useful. You actually /meant/ something then, your entire uneventful life had lead up to some climax that resulted in you being one of the /most/ important aspects. But now what? Your importance had come and gone, your purpose in life was basically /over/. At first, it was nice. Not needing to worry about your life being in danger twenty-four-seven was calming. You didn't need to worry that your friends were in danger, either. It started getting depressing about four months later. You can't remember it so clearly now, but you had a dream that you were in the game again. Your adrenaline was off the chart; heart racing, mind calculating precise movements, the thrill of the fight coursing through your veins. You woke up in cold sweat. Panic filled your body to the point of freezing and it took awhile for you to remember where you were.  
           It took even longer to wipe the excited smile off your face.  
           After that, you realized how little you had going for you now. What much was school and grades compared to defending worlds and fighting off fiends? You began telling Dave about these feelings. He simply nodded, but you could see the crack left in his armor too, leaving his typical poker face looking a little down and desperate. You tried not to pry his thoughts on it too hard, fearing he would lash out or start getting annoyed with you. You are tired of talking to Rose, too. To her, this is simply a phase influenced by young raging hormones. She tells you to find a hobby to keep your mind occupied, like that will help. You've tried looking into small things like wood shop, but none of them hold your interest long enough to keep your mind off /anything/. Lately, all you can successfully do is daydream about what it felt like to hold the weight of the world on your shoulders. Although it was too much at first, it eventually gave you the strength to hold your head high. There's nothing to show for it, either. Just empty bragging rights that ninety percent of the population would send you off to an asylum for.  
           You are eventually snapped out of your thoughts by your father making his way down the stairs. You realize that an hour has already passed and you have no idea how. Your father gives you a look when he sees you stretched out on the couch, eyes probably blood shot and lined with tired, dark bags. You smile sheepishly and shrug half-halfheartedly. He knows you haven't been sleeping lately, and has confronted you about it a couple times. Telling you that he's there if you want to talk, but he wont pressure you unless he notices it's effecting your health. Although you are relieved to not have to explain and not have him worrying, a small part of you wants to talk to him about it. You suppose you could deal with it yourself until things get unbearable. Or, more so than they are now. He gives you a hard stare for a good few seconds, then goes into the kitchen to make his morning coffee. You let out a slow breath and turn off the T.V, staring at the black screen for a few moments then making your way into the kitchen.  
           Your father has his back turned to you and his shoulders are noticeably tense. You open your mouth to speak, but can't decide on how to bring up the subject. He finishes whatever is was he was preparing for his coffee and turns to you, his eyes down at the floor and his lips pressed into a thin line. You've gotten used to that face, it always means he is thinking about something he doesn't want to think about, and is accessing the situation into a discussable topic. He has never been one to talk about things, he usually just keeps his ears open and gives advice, never confronting the situation himself. It makes him hard to read, but you know he means well.  
           He raises his eyes to yours and sighs. “Your mother is not coming back, now go get some sleep, son.”  
           Oh.  
           His tone is soft and gentle, but has an almost irritated edge to it. You rub your palm against the back of your neck awkwardly and can't decide between being offended or submissive. You simply mutter a “Yeah” and leave to your room. You close the door behind you, sink down to the floor, and pull your knees to you chest. His words are still heavy in your chest as you try to swallow down the growing lump in your throat. Despite how challenging it has become recently, sleeping for the next few years doesn't sound like a bad idea. You lift yourself from the floor and drag your feet over to your unmade bed. It was hard to drift off to sleep, but after a good hour of adjusting and trying to get comfortable, you somehow managed to.


	2. Growing Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here you were, seeing your father for who he is for the first time. To think you used to look up to this man! To think you were so blind before! It only goes to show how much you've grown. You actually pity him. He never got to grow up. Oh well, let him wallow in his immaturity. You had much more adult concepts to process!
> 
> John finds a way to cope with his issues.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Sorry if I took too long for a new chapter!!! I hope you enjoy!

Waking up is always hard. You know the very moment you do that today is going to be another pointless waste of energy. Although your dreams usually consist of dark places or the familiar feeling of scarlet liquid sticking to your body, they at least have a purpose. But waking up later that day was worse than pointless, but dreadful. You didn't want to face your father after that. You should have said something, anything other than just walking away.

What could you have said, though? Did he really expect you to respond? What if he was testing your emotional stability after the game? You close your eyes again. God, you were tired of thinking. Why couldn't you just sleep it all away? It was so pointless to continue a meaningless life like this. Maybe if you took medication to help you sleep it would help. You try to remember to ask Rose later.

You eventually sit up and grab your phone, checking for any texts or missed calls. Nothing. The others seem to be really busy recently. You've tried messaging them over Pesterchum or flashing them a text here and there but nothing is working. Oh well, no use in being a bother. They probably have something to do with their lives other than dwelling over the game. Really, its been a year. An entire year. So much could have been done, so many steps in life could have been taken. Yet here you are, hiding your envy towards your dearest friends. You weren't going to cry, either. Only children cry, in which your childhood was wasted on _that stupid game_. No. You had to stop wasting your time thinking about it! It was so pointless!

Your name is John Egbert and you need to wake up.

Although it was ironic that you cannot even manage to sleep. It was all the emotional aspect, though. You have been trapped in this trance of depression for all too long now. It was time you made a difference.

You stand up and take a deep breath, you could do this. It was only a matter of willpower. You were stronger than this useless battle of trying to find a point to your life. You couldn't sit back and wait to be hand fed a meaning, you needed to take it upon yourself and make one. Starting with talking to your father and showing him you're not so easily phased!

You open your door and head downstairs. You find your father sitting in his normal spot on the couch, sipping on a cup of coffee. He doesn't seem to notice you until you sit next to him, denying any tenseness the atmosphere may be holding.

“Up so soon?” he asks, his eyes still pointed toward the television. It was a little odd, usually he was baking or doing some sort of housework around this time. Your father wasn't the type to sit around unless there was something wrong.

“I don't really sleep well during the day,” you shrug. It takes a few moments of silence before you speak up again. Something was definitely up.

“So, uh, everything okay?” you ask, biting your lip unconsciously and waiting somewhat impatiently for his answer.

He simply nods his head and glances briefly at you, showing no answer to your curiousness in his expression. You've noticed over the years that he was good at that, keeping a blank expression to hide any concern. Almost like Dave's poker face, but his was almost stern- or threatening if you didn't know him well.

“Okay, well, I just wanted to say that I'm okay! I mean, I'll miss mom but stuff just kinda happens right? Being sad over it wont change anything,” you remark.

You really weren't the best at expressing your feelings to other people. You're sure he gets it though. Of course he does, he's your father! You probably didn't even need to say anything about it in the first place.

“Son,” he sighs, setting his coffee cup on the end table. His voice is lower and more serious than you ever fancy it being. “It's okay to miss your mother. You're still a boy, and it isn't good to suppress feelings like that.”

His words hit you much harder than they should.

A boy? No. You weren't a boy! You were well on your way to adulthood and much more mature than any of your peers! Yes you may act silly every so often but you are _not_ a child.

“Dad, I'm not a boy anymore! I'm old enough to handle this!” Your good mood begins to dissipate into a darker emotion. You doubt that this is as difficult as you are making it seem, but being sad won't fix anything! You force your lips up into a smile and nod to yourself, you were an adult now. You could deal with this. You've been through much worse!

“Handling it and denying it are two very different issues, John. I know you're a sensitive kid, not to mention you haven't been sleeping well recently. I understand that it is a lot to take in, but we'll take baby steps.”

You should be listening, but you cannot stop yourself from repeating “kid” in your head a few times after he's said it. Does he really see you as a kid? After all he's seen you accomplish? After all you've done in that Game to prove yourself? It really wasn't enough? Well, it was enough for you. If he couldn't see that, well maybe he didn't know you as thoroughly as he should.

You don't realize you're fists are balled up in your shirt until he places his hand on your shoulder and gives you a comforting squeeze. You also don't realize the anger and resentment you had built up within yourself until you're jerking away.

“Maybe she only left because of you.” The pang of guilt that clenches in your stomach is soon overridden by annoyance. He needed to know. This was mostly his fault, after all. If he can't even see his own son as he truly is, how could he have possibly given your mother what she needed? You ignore the expression on your father's face and continue.

“I mean, think about it. Did you really treat her how you should have? I doubt it. I rarely ever even saw you two in the same room, yet alone taking care of each other.” Which they weren't. Your dad would always be occupying himself on little hobbies instead of talking to her. If you were in her shoes, you'd leave too! And the truth of the matter is, she was gone. And you couldn't get her back. Your own mother.

“John, stop talking like that. This wasn't anyone's fault, it was only a matter of circumstance. She left because she couldn't find what she wanted here and decided to move on. Although she didn't think about her family, which was wrong, but no one should be blamed. And placing it on someone else instead of facing your emotions leads to hurt feelings and is entirely unnecessary. Now, I suggest you go to your room and think about what you just said before talking to me like that again.”

You have to stop and think about that. Who really was the one in denial here? It certainly wasn't you. You now understand exactly why this all happened and are honestly getting angry that he can't accept it. _He_ was the child here! You stand up and take a moment to look your father in the eye. He looked hurt, an emotion you haven't seen in his eyes so clearly in a while. But you knew he was only covering up for his lies. He was blaming her because he couldn't live up to the job, and dare expected you to resent her?! It. . . was actually kinda funny if you thought about it. Here you were, seeing your father for who he is for the first time. To think you used to look up to this man! To think you were so blind before! It only goes to show how much you've grown. You actually pity him. He never got to grow up. Oh well, let him wallow in his immaturity. You had much more adult concepts to process!

A small grin growing on your face, you shrug at him and turn on you heel. You didn't need him anymore. A bad father was the last thing you needed now that you knew your place. You will show him how it feels without you. And you will make sure it hurts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please feel free to leave a comment annoucning any mistakes and whether or not you like it? :D

**Author's Note:**

> Please feel free to report any spelling or tense mistakes! Any issues or complaints of any sort is welcomed, so long as its constructive!


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